


Stutter

by asaloki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Speech Disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asaloki/pseuds/asaloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div>
  <p> Cas stutters a lot, now that he's human, and becomes easily overwhelmed. Sam helps him through it. </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Stutter

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://waldostiel.tumblr.com)

“H-He… Hello Dean.”

Dean and Sam both stare at the man in front of them in unrestrained astonishment—unrestrained _concern_. Sam is the one who recovers soonest. “Cas,” he blurts when the shock no longer renders him mute. In his relief, it doesn’t even occur to Sam to complain that Cas addressed Dean and not him. “Dude.” He almost laughs, so elated he is. “You’re here. You found us.”

“S-S-S,” Cas stammers, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Every syllable proves to be a struggle, a battle he doesn’t have the energy to fight, let alone win.

His vision blurs.

Black creeps in around the edges.

Dean reanimates in time to catch Cas when he falls forward. “Easy there, buddy,” he murmurs, needlessly because Cas can’t hear him now. Dean hooks his arms under Cas’ and heaves him back into their motel room. He lays him down on Sam’s bed because it’s the closest and Cas is a lot heavier than he looks. “You’re all right, Cas. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Sam silently closes the door and slides the lock into place. When he meets Dean’s gaze, it’s like looking in a mirror. The worry in Dean’s expression is a reflection of his own. There’s nothing for them to do now but wait and see.

-

Cas comes around within a matter of hours. The room is darker than before, he notices, and he stares at the cracks in the ceiling for a while in confusion, hands fisting in the blankets beneath him. Sam, perched next to him on the mattress, notices his wakeful state and soon starts to fuss. “Cas!” He babbles. “Hey, hey… Don’t try and move… Dean should be here soon. He went to get food.” Cas doesn’t look away from the ceiling and thus doesn’t notice Sam’s lip-biting and nervous side-eye as he explains, “He figured you’d be hungry, after everything…”

It’s an opening for conversation, should Cas choose to take the bait. Instead, Cas licks his chapped lips and closes his eyes, a clear dismissal. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t dare to… He’s exhausted. His mouth is uncomfortably dry, and his stomach… Is he hungry? He isn’t sure.

It doesn’t matter.

Cas drifts off to Sam’s fingers threading through his hair, soothing.

He wakes to a tense atmosphere and risen voices.

Dean’s: “Fuck, Sam. He’s human now; we have to take him somewhere safe.”

Sam’s: “You really think he’s gonna be safer somewhere else? Dean, c’mon. You know he’ll be a sitting duck if we leave him on his own.”

Dean’s: “We can’t watch his back every second of the day. Damn it, Sam… We can’t—we can’t babysit him, okay? That’s not our job. It’s not our responsibility to clean up his messes over and over.”

Sam’s: “He’s family, Dean.”

Somehow, those three words are all it takes for Dean to concede to Sam.

Cas chooses not to listen to the rest of their conversation.

He feels unwell.

-

Cas has been with them for a few weeks the first time _it_ becomes a real problem.

He doesn’t talk much, and when he does… When he _tries_ … Well, it’s difficult for him. Sam is infinitely patient and Dean… He tries to help in his own misguided way, but he doesn’t seem to notice how his teasing remarks cause Cas to withdraw into himself even further… Finding the humour in a serious situation, it’s how Dean copes. Sam knows that, knows Dean, but he still winces each time Dean interrupts Cas’ stuttering, tries to guess the words in order to hurry Cas along. It’s not what Cas needs. He needs support… He needs to regain his lost confidence.

It’s the three of them in a bar between hunts, and Cas must be feeling brave because (with some encouragement on Sam’s part) he consents to ordering the drinks. Of course, Sam and Dean stick close by him, both of them listening in as Cas starts to stutter his request, his nerves making his falters even more pronounced, the pauses extended. They try not to be too obvious in their concern but when a bar patron makes a snide comment (Sam is sure he hears the name ‘Porky Pig’ used in there somewhere), Dean enters overprotective big brother mode in a second flat. “How about you say that again?” He dares, and the man has little to say when faced with Dean’s wrath.

Sam doesn’t involve himself, even though he’s, likewise, furious… He focuses on Cas, instead. “Come on,” he ushers, leading Cas out of the busy bar by the wrist. It’s not until the two of them are outside that Sam is able to look closer. Cas is trembling, his hands clenched at his sides in fists, and Sam doesn’t know if it’s shock or anger but there’s panic in those blue eyes, and helplessness. “Castiel,” he breathes. “It’s okay.”

Cas, in response, narrows his steely eyes at Sam. Sam expects to see the perpetual confusion… But all he sees is understanding, clear and sad and frustrated. Those eyes tell Sam that it’s not okay—that _Cas_ isn’t okay, that he hasn’t been since he fell.

Underneath it all, there’s bitterness.

Deeper still, hidden, there’s shame and fear.

Sam’s hand falls limp to his side, and he doesn’t try to stop Cas when the other man storms off.

It starts to rain.

-

Cas lets himself into their motel room later on that night.

Dean is dead to the world, snoring lightly, but Sam has been sitting up, waiting for him. “Cas,” he says with a relieved smile. It falters some when Cas remains stubborn and silent. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. There’s no use in being mad. “You’re drenched,” he states the obvious after a moment of silence. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Cas looks down at himself and then back to Sam. “I…” He starts, trails off with a knitted brow.

Sam smiles, rueful. “I figured you would be.” He stands up, shows Cas the towel he’s holding. “Let me help you, Cas.” It’s a whisper, a hesitant offer, and Sam is sure Cas will refuse him, snatch the towel from his hands and retreat to the bathroom… But as he moves closer, Cas’ gaze simply drops to the floor, his posture defeated.

So Sam takes care of Cas – _human_ Cas, and isn’t that a weird thing? – and towel dries his hair in silence, strips him of his wet clothes and rubs feeling back into his cold limbs. It’s not sexual, none of it is… But it is intimate, enough that Sam wonders about the words he spoke to Dean all those weeks ago. He cares for Cas, thinks of him as family… But at the same time… It’s different… Harder to explain.

Once Cas is dry and re-dressed in warm clothes, Sam crawls into bed with him, doesn’t even think about his actions until the two of them are huddled under the covers, Cas’ nose at the nape of his neck, his breaths hot and even. “Thank you, Sam.”

It’s spoken slowly, and Sam can tell it’s deliberate, that Cas has to consider each word before speaking because he’s self-conscious of the difficulty he has in expressing himself. He still struggles on the S sound but Sam is proud of Cas all the same, for finding the courage to speak to him. “I’ll help you, Cas,” he murmurs sleepily, closing his eyes with a fond smile. “You’ve just gotta talk to me.”


End file.
